


i think this time i’m dying (i’m not melodramatic)

by wheelsonthebus



Series: Minecraft YouTubers but they're Warrior Cats [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), SMPLive, Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cats, Angst, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Cat Clans (Warriors), Character Death, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, I try to anyway, Male Friendship, Mild Gore, Rebirth, Temporary Character Death, WILBUR FUCKING DIES POGGERS, Wilbur Techno Phil Tommy friendship pleading emoji, i guess?, i love them, i love this au, mcyt as cats, no context to whats goin on just accept it, oh my god he fuckin dead, so much, wilbur n techno friendship rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheelsonthebus/pseuds/wheelsonthebus
Summary: He looks down at himself, eyes widening a fraction at the redness spilling from his ginger fur. "Oh," he says dumbly. His eyes flick up, meeting Bladeclaw's horrified gaze. "I think–oh.I'm dying."————or in which, Birdsong dies and Bladeclaw doesn’t know what to do with himself.- song title from Saline Solution by Wilbur Soot, i thought it was fitting :]
Relationships: (well they're actually brothers in this fic but still), Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, besties pog
Series: Minecraft YouTubers but they're Warrior Cats [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835416
Comments: 18
Kudos: 132





	i think this time i’m dying (i’m not melodramatic)

An odd pain lances out from his throat, just above his chest, and he reaches up to touch it. It's wet and slick, his fur matted at points and stuck together with some liquid. The texture there is ragged and strange, and when he pulls away to examine his paw, it comes away shiny with blood.

He tucks in his chin to look down, eyes widening a fraction at the redness spilling from his ginger fur. "Oh," he says dumbly. His eyes flick up, meeting Bladeclaw's horrified gaze. "I think– _oh._ I'm dying." The words slip from his mouth but it feels like he hasn't spoken at all. Fogginess clouds his vision, blurring, hazy, and he swears he sees colours he can't put a name to, sees things that have never existed. 

Oh. The ground is so close. When had he fallen?

White paws come into view, muffled shouting above him – "Birdsong! Birdsong stay awake–” His brain whites out for a heartbeat. Then – "Weaselfur’s getting herbs now, please just stay _alive."_ The paws move out of sight and something nudges him, pushing him onto his side. A tongue rasps over the horrible wound in his throat. It hurts but he says nothing. There's nothing to say.

Except when the tongue moves away and the warmth around him leaves, panic grips at his chest. "Bladeclaw," he whimpers, like a kit. More words leave without his permission: "Don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere," Bladeclaw meows softly. For the first time since they've met, Bladeclaw's voice cracks. Why is he sad? Did Birdsong do something wrong? A sob wracks his body from ears to tail-tip at the thought. It feels like he can't breathe at all. His chest aches, heart thrumming in his ribcage like a trapped bird. Oh, StarClan; he actually can't breathe. He says as much through broken gasps, wet tears mixing with red red blood, and seasons of training seem to vanish in a heartbeat. He can't remember how to stay calm. How to stop the blood flow. Can't remember who he is, where he is, what's happening, why –

The tongue grooms him and wet droplets stain his fur, bitten-back sobs and promises of _'it'll be okay, just keep holding on,'_ echo through his head. He hears but doesn't. He can barely recognise his own paws and the thoughts in his head.

"Sunspots and Goldenpaw," he says quietly, almost dreamily. "They're okay?"

There's a tiny choking noise, then a murmured reply: "They're safe." It's said like a promise. It makes him feel safe, too. Like nothing can ever hurt him if he stays here at Bladeclaw's side.

He pushes his head forwards, feeling the soft downy fur of his friend's against his muzzle. It comforts him. "Don't wanna die alone," he meows, voice meek and vulnerable. A cough, then metal floods his mouth. Something runs down the side of his snout and leaks into the ground. His voice breaks when he repeats it, almost shouting, desperate; "Don't– don't let me die alone!"

Bladeclaw nudges him back down to calmness again. "Stay still, you idiot," he snaps, eyes searching Birdsong's face. His eyes are stretched wide, pupils round and black with fear. "You're not going to die."

Birdsong blinks, all slow and dreamy. Sleep calls to him from the back of his mind. Like a song. A sweet song, Sweetsong, lulling him. His muscles relax. His head slumps against the ground, eyelids feeling heavy. "I think 'm dying," he mumbles. It doesn't feel scary anymore; Bladeclaw's with him. It's okay. They'll be okay. The name alone brings him comfort. The instinct to run and hide in his dying moments fades to a barely-there whisper. He'd never admit it, but the peace he feels now, the peace he feels at his friend's side, is more than he could have ever hoped for. It's a good way to die. "Bladeclaw," he meows sleepily, then smiles at the word. He giggles, nose scrunching up at his next thought, words slurring together. "Mm, 'm about to die. Do y'know what happens when y'die?"

"You come back," Bladeclaw tells him, all soft and gentle like a queen comforting her kit. "You'll come back this time next moon." Bladeclaw turns his head away, biting back a sob. "You'll be gone for a _moon."_

Birdsong blinks up at him again. The white cat's face fades in and out of view. "G'night, Bladeclaw," he says with a small laugh. Nuzzling closer, he props his head up on top of one of Bladeclaw's massive paws, letting the warmth seep through his tired bones. It's an awkward angle, but he wants Bladeclaw's face to be the last thing he sees. 

White turns to black.

.

.

.

The grave is marked by a smooth stone pressed into the dirt. A ring of yellow flowers surround the unsettled dirt and a single yellow petal rests on top of the stone. It's not a bad place for a grave – sitting in a small clearing in the pine trees, where the scents are so fresh and crisp it almost hurts to breathe.

A white cat crouches over it. His fur is matted and ruffled, as though he'd stopped caring for it for a long time. There's a dull look in his eyes which softens a little when he looks at the bright bright flowers and the grey grey stone. He's quiet for a long time; the sun sinks from its highest point to below the horizon and the tom barely moves. He's so still that a mouse dares approach him, whiskers twitching up at him before moving on. Life moves on but the tom remains frozen in time. 

"I miss you."

His voice is cracked and broken as though he's spoken few and far between. Then he laughs and shakes his head. "You're probably disappointed; 'Why's Bladeclaw being a massive loser?' Okay, listen. I miss you. A lot." He lowers his eyes, a paw gently pushing a flower into place. The petals seem a little dry, so he stands to grab at a piece of sodden moss. He takes it with him in case of emergencies. His jaws clench, and water seeps out of it, wetting the flowers and the ground around them. 

He goes quiet, staring at the grave. "At least you're coming back soon, right? Right after the Gathering. Good thing Weaselfur knows about herbs or else we'd be in real trouble." He laughs again, a little dryly, and rubs a paw over his face. "You're going to hate me for this, but I used some of your flowers to hide some of my wounds. So I can heal and remember you at the same time. Good idea, right?"

He glances up at the sky. It's a pretty shade of orange. Since he started speaking, a single cloud had drifted across the sky. He likes to think that it's Birdsong watching over him.

"I should go. I don't really want to, though." A sigh. He closes his eyes for a heartbeat, filling his lungs with the sweet scent of those yellow flowers and pretends Birdsong is beside him, laughing at his loneliness. The thought makes him smile enough to say, "See you in a quarter-moon," and he leaves without looking back.

It's a shame, for if he did, maybe he would've seen the ghost of a ginger cat sitting in the ring of flowers, smiling at him like he's the only cat in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> i promise i’ll update the moon is bright enough or lunch club as animals eventually,, ., , . i just loive this au sm,. also i made refs for a shit ton of the mc cats so like look at my insta highlights for it please @/bus.does.art


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